


God Bless America

by Marvelicious (Jayjaybe)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Suit Kink, Teasing, Uniform Kink, Wall/Standing Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/pseuds/Marvelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes darted back down, first to Bucky's lips, and then to the still-stiff fabric of his new uniform, framing his body in clean lines and sharp angles. Clint would sure as hell pledge allegiance to <i>that</i>.</p>
<p>Or, Bucky becomes the new Captain America, and Clint discovers a new kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Bless America

"Hey, Clint, What'dya think?"

Clint looked up from cleaning alien bits out of his quiver - seriously, ick - and was greeted by the sight of Bucky in the stars and stripes, standing proud and tall, if a little sheepish. He swallowed hard.

"Looks good." Understatement of the year. Hot damn. Was this what everyone had always seen in Steve when he was in uniform?

Bucky grinned, already back to his usual fluidity, and leaned back against the door frame. "Yeah?"

The uniform Bucky wore wasn't quite the same as Steve's. It'd been redesigned with a lot more black, and possibly different armoring, but it definitely suited him. Clint stood up too-quick with the intent to examine it closer, and it wasn't until he heard the crash that he realized he'd forgotten abut the quiver on his lap entirely. _Great, Clint, real smooth._

When he glanced back up from the alien-encrusted mess at his feet, Bucky was making a valiant effort not to laugh. He bit his lip and ducked his head like a good schoolboy, but even that didn't take away from just how damn big and heroic he looked.

"That's a new design." _No shit. Why was he so bad at this?_

"Damn right," Bucky teased, "Now all I gotta do is be worthy of it."

He certainly looked the part - broad shouldered and intimidating, the alternately dark and brightly colored fabric hugging his figure like a glove. Clint caught himself staring and looked away before he could make more of an idiot of himself.

_The guy puts on an american flag and all of a sudden you can't string two words together?_

The couch dipped next to him, and that was all the warning Clint got before Bucky was lounging right next to him, his weight tipping Clint even further into his space. Damn super soldiers.

"I can't decide," he said, looking off into space like he was actually contemplating something, "if it feels weird over my left arm, or I'm just imagining things. Maybe I should wear it out for a bit."

He stretched out, the patterned fabric shifting and stretching effortlessly to accommodate him. Clint had seen Bucky shirtless more times than he could count, and wandering around in just his boxers on a few particularly notable early mornings - he knew the guy was built like a tank, but the suit made him look even more impressive if that was possible.

Bucky lifted the aforementioned arm and brought it to his mouth, and Clint felt blood rushing somewhere he definitely didn't want it when he saw Bucky's lips part. What was he... The corners of Bucky's mouth twitched, but he bit the tip of his glove and tugged it down a bit further with his teeth. Oh.

__Clint, you pervert._ _

"The gloves might be a bit much," Bucky admitted.

"Nah, they're..." Clint could swear there was a glint in his eyes that hadn't been there a minute before, but the contemplation brought their faces a lot closer together than he'd intended. He immediately forgot what he'd been meaning to say.

"Good?" Bucky teased, his voice much lower than it'd been a minute ago. His lips were barely an inch from Clint's - one of them must have leaned in, but Clint couldn't figure it out for the life of him.

His eyes darted back down, first to Bucky's lips, and then to the still-stiff fabric of his new uniform, framing his body in clean lines and sharp angles. Clint would sure as hell pledge allegiance to that.

And then Bucky sat back sharply, throwing Clint off balance. He was off the couch in another half-second. "You do like it," he said, face splitting into a mischievous grin, "Excellent."

He was out the door in another flash, leaving Clint with only the memory of his uniform elevating Bucky's ass to ungodly levels of high and tight, and a very confused boner.

Oh, and a gunked-up quiver to clean out. "Goddamn it."

 

"We need to instate a moratorium on alien invasions," Clint grumbled, blearily scanning over the puddles of slime for any arrows he might be able to re-use. "I declare Mondays off limits from now on."

He could hear pretty much everyone laugh over the combined com system. "I'm serious," he protested, "screw all of this until I've had at least another pot of coffee."

"You're making coffee when we get back to the tower?" Tony asked. " _Excellent_."

Clint opened his mouth to say something rude and hopefully at least a little bit witty, but stopped dead when he caught sight of Bucky jogging over to him. The early morning sun - as hesitant to get up as he'd been that morning, Clint noted - glinted off the top of Bucky's shield and from a patch on his left arm where it looked like his uniform had been slashed. His shoulders still looked improbably broad in the tight material, his... well, everything so trim.

God bless America indeed. Clint was so screwed.

"Hey, Clint," he called out, "you've got some fans back this way asking for autographs."

"This early in the morning?"

"Hey, we fucked up everyone's commute. 'Least we can do is sign a few subway maps." There was a note of humor in his voice when he continued, looking over as if he needed to check that Clint had fallen into step with him, "Don't act so surprised," he said, "everyone loves a man in uniform."

Clint bit his tongue and resisted the urge to give Bucky's another good once-or twice-over. He signed a few autographs for some college kids who'd been stuck on their way into campus, and hurried to rejoin him on the way back to the quinjet.

"Speaking of uniforms," Bucky added only a minute later, "mind helping me out of this one when we get back to the tower?"

"What?" Clint spluttered. Visions of running his hands over the star-spangled fabric, peeling it back piece by piece until it was far enough out of the way for-

"Must have gotten some of that gunk in my circuits after it ripped. My arm's shorted out. Do me a favor?" His tone gave nothing away, but his eyes were wickedly bright.

"Yeah, sure."

"Would you kids quit flirting and get your asses to the jet?" Natasha complained, "It's not adorable to deprive people of their well-deserved caffeine."

 

"Who's making breakfast?" Bucky asked, back at the tower, "I'm starving." He snatched a banana off the countertop and leaned back against the cabinets to peel it, glancing over towards Clint as he did. "You still want coffee?"

"Like I'd ever turn it down," Clint managed, trying valiantly - and failing just as valiantly - to somehow not notice the sight of Bucky standing there still in uniform and scarfing down a banana in a way that was either unfairly attractive, or proved what a dirty mind Clint had even before he'd fully woken up.

"James," Natasha snapped at him, "stop eating your banana like a prostitute and make the damn coffee."

Bucky's gaze slid over to Clint, and then back just as fast. "Yes, Ma'am," he replied, saluting her - and oh dear god, did that do things for Clint - before he shoved the rest of the fruit in his mouth and turned around to fix the coffee.

Clint nearly choked on his own saliva, and thought about making some excuse to sneak off to the bathroom for a really, really long shower. He could totally pull the sore muscle card... But Bucky's other side was no less distracting than his front, and besides - he really needed another cup of coffee.

At least Bucky wouldn't catch him staring, Clint rationalized, sinking down into a chair to watch as Bucky got the coffeemaker going. The shift of muscles across his back was clearly visible in the skin-tight fabric as Bucky moved, the vertical red and white stripes tapering down to his much-slimmer hips. It framed his ass perfectly, his muscular thighs, clean lines of stitching against the black all the way down to his combat boots. He made even making coffee look heroic.

More heroic.

He wondered if Bucky wanted to get out of his uniform any time soon - not that Clint would have complained about Bucky wearing it all day and night, but he was already distracted and he'd barely woken up. He'd never get anything done at this rate. But then there was the tantalizing promise of helping Bucky out of it... Clint tried not to dwell on that too hard before he ended up with a hard to explain erection at the breakfast table.

_I really like my coffee, okay?_ He could already hear himself rationalizing. Definitely not his finest moment.

Bucky carried a mug over for each of them in what seemed like no time - certainly much too short a time for Clint's early-morning inner pervert's liking - tall and broad and grinning as he set the coffee down in front of each of them.

It dawned on Clint slowly, his eyes flicking up the tight sleeves of Bucky's outfit where his arms were outstretched... "You asshole," he said, "your arm's fine."

Bucky winked at him. "My request stands."

He left the room with a teasing look over his shoulder, and Clint gulped down his coffee much faster than he should have. "My country needs me," he cracked, much more coherent without Bucky standing there in that uniform.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Your _country_ needs to stop leaving his hair in the drain, and a lesson or two in subtlety." She was trying not to smile though, biting down on her lower lip in between words. "You should tell him that if you crazy kids end up talking any time this week."

Clint stuck out his tongue at her and heard Natasha laughing into her mug behind him as he left.

 

And that was how Clint found himself in Bucky's room, pinned against the door by one hell of an America-themed super soldier.

"You never struck me as the patriotic type," Bucky teased, his stubble rough against Clint's jaw.

Clint answered him by running his hands down the sides of Bucky's torso, the body armor firm beneath his fingers, and Bucky even more so beneath that. "God bless America," he replied, the sarcasm not helped along by how breathy his voice was.

"Oh baby," Bucky laughed, punctuating it with a gentle bite, "gonna have you singing the national anthem loud enough to wake the president."

"You're a fucking idiot, Barnes." He couldn't help laughing despite banging the back of his head against the door, still breathless from the pressure of Bucky's thigh between his legs and the teasingly light scrape of his stubble on Clint's skin.

"That's 'Captain' to you." He was grinning when he pulled his head back, "now drop and give me head."

"They teach you that in the military?" Clint teased, but he sunk to his knees, fingers tracing their way down the stripes on Bucky's uniform. He'd never say, but even jokingly, Bucky's order had set something fluttering excitedly in his stomach. His mouth was watering already, but he paused to press a lingering kiss over the tight fabric, drawing it out. There was a nearly invisible zipper nestled among the black, just beneath where the red and white came together at a sharp point.

"Fuckin' A," Bucky replied, his voice finally just as shaky as Clint's had felt. Clint wanted to make his way up and down that V of his hips, but resigned himself to an eventual next time. He drew Bucky's cock from it's confines, just as he seemed to have recovered himself. "They taught me a lot of stuff in the military, let's just leave it at-oh, fuck, Clint."

He took Bucky deep, not once taking his eyes off of the imposing figure Bucky cut above him. "Mmm," Clint hummed. Bucky looked even more impressive from down on his knees - the view was awe inspiring, and he made sure to channel that enthusiasm through his tongue.

And then Bucky's left hand was sweeping over the back of his neck, textured glove catching just slightly on his skin before he grabbed what little hair he could in his fist. He didn't look so much the dignified commander now, his lips parted and tongue flicking out over them, but he still stood proud and straight. "Yeah, that's it," he urged, refusing to let Clint pull his head back, "deeper."

Clint gripped his muscular thighs - dipping his fingers beneath one of the bands meant for a holster on Bucky's right - and doubled his efforts. Fuck, he'd do anything Bucky told him to in that uniform.

"Wait, wanna fuck you," Bucky panted a minute later, forcing Clint to still.

"Will you keep the uniform on?" Clint asked, unable to keep the desire out of his own voice.

Bucky laughed, stretching out a hand to help Clint back to his feet, "kinky. And I'll do you one better."

 

Clint was confused when Bucky led him into the bathroom. At least up until the point he took Clint by the shoulders and turned him around.

The pristine white countertop was certainly large and sturdy enough to support both of them, if Clint had to guess, but no - a mirror took up almost the entire wall above it. He could see both of them clear as day, Captain America with his hands on Clint's shoulders, his cock already pressed against the cleft of Clint's ass. As Clint watched, Bucky raised his eyebrows, as if to ask what he thought.

"Okay, why don't I have a mirror like this?" Clint joked. Looking at the two of them together in the mirror, it was even more obvious just how big Bucky was - taller and broader and so utterly in control of everything.

He laughed, already reaching around Clint to unzip the front of his vest. "You like being perched up high, don't you?" Bucky asked, something hidden behind the words.

"Yeah," Clint watched Bucky undress him, moving with the perfect efficiency of a well-trained soldier. Did he want to fuck him on the counter?

Bucky's suit contrasted even more with Clint's bare skin, black and red and blue framing him on all sides.

He lifted a hand to his mouth, the same way he had that day on the couch, but this time he tugged the glove off entirely, tossing it to the side. That shouldn't have looked nearly as sexy as it did. His now bare hand was warm against Clint's skin when Bucky brought it back down to cup his hip. "Mind me keeping the other one on?"

"Huh?"

It took Clint a moment to notice Bucky wiggling the fingers of his other hand, still gloved. "Welcome back." He grinned. "Cold metal, or glove. Take your pick."

"How is that even a choice?"

"Glove it is."

Bucky wrapped his free hand around Clint's cock and urged him forward, bending him over the counter. It gave Clint an even better view of him in his uniform - the colorful chest piece on display all sharp and sleek, and Bucky's face set so determinedly.

He noticed Clint watching him in the mirror and smiled again, rubbing his cock against Clint's ass as he leaned forward to pull open a drawer on the far side of them. The fabric of his uniform brushed against Clint's ass and thighs. It wasn't nearly as rough as he'd expected it to be.

"Lube." He had to take his hand off of Clint's cock, but Clint took over for him gladly. It was surprisingly hot watching Bucky trickle lube across his non-gloved fingers, knowing that it's be inside him in another minute.

And- "Oh my god."

Bucky worked him open until Clint was dripping precum all over the counter. He crooked his fingers expertly against Clint's prostate, ran his thumb back and forth across that first sensitive ring of muscle... And through it all he looked so intensely focused, still in his tactical suit - Clint went weak in the knees.

"You ready?" Bucky asked, pulling back slightly. Clint heard him adjust the fabric of his uniform, but he didn't move to take it off.

Ready for what? "Fuck, Barnes, I'm about to cum already."

"Well don't do that," Bucky laughed. He stepped to the side so Clint could see how he'd opened up his suit, cock jutting proudly with only a little space to spare. He was still so composed... Clint almost wanted to go down on him again. "C'mere."

Clint turned to face him, and Bucky pulled him close for a long minute, all textured fabric against Clint's bare skin. Only the roughness of his kiss and the hard line of his cock digging into Clint's hip betrayed his arousal, where Clint was already a sweating, panting mess.

Before Clint even knew what he was doing, Bucky hoisted him up effortlessly. He turned to pin Clint against the back wall. Oh.

If Clint looked down he could see the star and stripes across the front of Bucky's uniform up close and personal, and at the same time, the tight fabric stretched across his ass in the mirror. "Fuck."

Bucky was grinning again, supporting Clint's weight with his left arm as he lined them up. "That good?"

Clint could see the play of muscles across his back with the movement of his arm, the clench of his ass as Bucky thrust up, and - "Oh, fuck yes."

It was good he'd spent so long working Clint open - his thrusts were so incredibly smooth with all that slick between them. Clint could only watch the bunching of fabric around the tops of his thighs and fist the broad-cut shoulders of it for something to hold onto.

"National anthem," Bucky panted, snapping his hips forward and driving Clint back against the wall, "Remember?"

All he could do was laugh breathlessly. "Can't remember a word." His precum smeared against the stripes on Bucky's chest, his cock sliding up and down the vertical lines with each movement. "Oh my god," he was about to cum, just watching Bucky pound him up against the wall, all tough in that uniform... Clint hurried to get a hand on his cock before he blew his load without even a touch.

Bucky glanced down and matched pace with Clint's frantic strokes, biting down on his lip in concentration. He tugged Clint down hard on his cock, forcing him to take it even deeper, and Clint threw his head back against the wall for the second time as he came loud and messy.

Only a second later, Bucky stilled, his grip on Clint's ass and thighs growing even tighter for an instant. He eased his cock out, and Clint clenched against the semen dripping from him. He couldn't dirty up Captain Americas's uniform, he thought, and then remembered his own orgasm with a jolt.

Long ropes of cum now decorated the stars and stripes across Bucky's chest and abdomen, smearing into the thick fabric as Bucky let him down.

Bucky looked down at himself, following Clint's gaze. He smirked, then ran a finger through the mess on the large star before sucking it into his mouth.

"I hope that doesn't count as desecrating the flag, or I'm in trouble," Clint joked, not even sure how he'd managed that. His entire body felt boneless, his legs still trembling.

"Damn right it does," Bucky said, glancing over him appraisingly. He was already palming his cock, still half-hard beneath his hand. "Good thing I'm qualified to punish you for it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna say Steve's taking a well deserved vacation or something (rather than being dead), but the uniform in question I based this off of is the BuckyCap uniform from Marvel 616 if you'd like a visual.


End file.
